


the chaste fear of falling

by urwasted



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mind Control, Possession, Queer Themes, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, suicidal ideation/thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urwasted/pseuds/urwasted
Summary: “There's a thing in a book I read, about how when somebody leaps from a burning skyscraper, it's not that they're not afraid of falling anymore; it’s that the alternative is so awful. And so then it invites you to consider what could be so awful that leaping to your death would seem like an escape from it.”





	the chaste fear of falling

**Author's Note:**

> major stranger things 3 spoilers! if you haven’t watched all the episodes read at your own risk and don’t blame me

In California, Billy had a friend named Adrian. 

Adrian was Russian. He was short and dark and freckled-pale, taught Billy how to order a shot of vodka at Russian bars that didn’t card, and liked to get so stoned neither of them could walk in a straight line. They would fall to the sand, and when the laughter died away Adrian liked to talk. Billy spent the entire summer before junior year at the beach with him, and when it got dark enough that they couldn’t even see their own hands, Adrian would talk about Billy.

_ “You have lived an incredibly American life, you know that? This idea that if you can just achieve X and Y and Z, everything will be okay, that’s bullshit, лютик золотистый. Because the truth is you have a deadbeat father and a tendency to anger easily, and if you keep believing Neil’s going to love you and your mom’s going to come back and you’re going to fall in love with a girl, I’m going to smash your head in, you annoying bastard.” _

Billy kicks him in the shin hard enough to get them both laughing again, but doesn’t fight the accusation. Adrian’s older brother has the best pot, and it makes his limbs feel like they’re floating away on him. He turns to look at Adrian’s face, the way his hair curls over his forehead and the sand that sticks to the highest point of his cheekbones, and wants to kiss him.

He thinks he might just do it, if Adrian  keeps talking like he knows shit about Billy. He doesn’t know _ anything. _

_ “There's a thing in a book I read, about how when somebody leaps from a burning skyscraper, it's not that they're not afraid of falling anymore; it’s that the alternative is so awful. And so then it invites you to consider what could be so awful that leaping to your death would seem like an escape from it. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? You understand what kind of things the book means. It's worse than any kind of physical injury, feeling as though every axiom in your life turned out to be false, and there is actually nothing. And that you are nothing. And it's all a delusion, and you have—“ _

Billy kisses him.

He kisses him because Adrian knows  _ too much _ , and because his lips look soft, and because he talks like he was born from the souls of dead poets and cynical philosophers.

Billy can feel every grain of sand under his hands and the way Adrian’s fingers tangle into his hair like they were meant to be there. He presses his tongue to the back of Adrian’s teeth, and tries to eat the words straight out of his mouth.

He goes home afterwards to Neil’s fists and boots and elbows, and he remembers the last thing Adrain said that night, under the empty sky, so devoid of stars that their hands barely stood out against each other’s skin. He remembers with every fiber of his being, because he knows it’s going to be the last thing Adrian will ever say to Billy.

“ _You're so much better than everybody else in this stupid fucking place, remember that when you go home to your father and his words tonight, детка. Because you can see that all of this? This is just a delusion, and you're so much worse because you can't fucking function with it. You’re an oxymoron and you drive me crazy. It's really horrible. I hope that you never change. Kiss me again before you go.”_

Billy remembers exactly which kiss Adrian had bitten into his neck that left the mark, and he thinks about those words and that kiss as Neil beats him black and blue.

Adrian had one hand up his shirt, playing with the divots in his spine, long fingers dipping just far enough under Billy waistband to draw a whine out of his throat. Billy remembers the imprint of Adrian’s smile on his neck and Adrian’s hands and Adrian’s words, he remembers them all the way to the hospital, all the way to Hawkins, far away from Adrian himself.

Billy remembers exactly where the bruise was, just big enough for Neil to notice, the size of a cherry.

He remembers too much, and most nights, he thinks about jumping from burning skyscrapers.

—

The problem with Hawkins, Indiana is there are no skyscrapers.

There’s only fields of corn and minor league whores and Steve Harrington, nothing like California beaches and Adrian at all.

His hair’s almost blonde it’s so light and he’s tall and there’s not a single goddamn freckle on his face. Steve sucks at words, and he sure as hell doesn’t understand shit about Billy’s life.

Billy doesn’t understand why Steve even pings on his radar. But it doesn’t matter, because Max goes missing and there’s the fight and Billy wakes up without Max, without Steve, without his car.

Two of those things were never really his in the first place, he supposes.

Neil comes at him hard enough this time to leave a few bruises that actually hurt. Billy thinks about burning skyscrapers and sand and hickies the size of cherries that night, he thinks of freckleless cheeks, and tells himself to leave it the fuck alone.

He tries his best, and soon enough it’s summer, humid heat close enough to home that Billy finally feels reasonably comfortable in his own skin. It’s nice, Neil hasn’t hit him in months, Steve Harrington is a non-issue, and Karen falls perfectly between the lines of distraction and challenge to make it fun. It almost feels real enough for Billy to enjoy it.

Billy should understand by now that the world isn’t going to let that stand for long.

He crashes, and it’s cold, and he forgets most of what happens after. He doesn’t pay attention when the Mind Flayer speaks for him or moves for him or does whatever it needs to. He watches Max and that girl—El he thinks—from passive eyes, doesn’t bother with trying to care, because it’s cold and everything inside his brain feels frozen still. It almost nice, because if he doesn’t push, doesn’t put up a fight, it lets him relive that summer, that night. He remembers the words, and the kisses, and he never has to go home, Neil never has to see the bruise just above his collar. And if he bares his neck for long enough, submits fully and wholly to whatever it wants, it lets him live through things that never really happened, pretend that maybe he could have Steve Harrington, have weekends by the poolside and kisses in the showers afterwards.

But then there’s Max again, with the rest of those kids, and all of a sudden it’s hot,  _ so hot,  _ and all his memories are melting and blurring so bad it makes her hair look like  _ fire _ . It makes her look like a burning skyscraper, and Billy’s mind screams so suddenly with the fact that  _ this is his fault. _

He needs her to understand he’s  _ sorry _ .

The feeling burns at the back of his neck and his palms and in his gums, and he grinds his teeth together so hard it aches all the way up to his ears.

But the Mind Flayer is smart, and Billy doesn’t even register picking up the shard of tile. As soon as the cold air rushes through the window, he doesn’t register anything at all.

Max wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

After that night there really is just nothing, it keeps his brain so fucking frozen all he knows is  _ cold  _ and  _ dark  _ and doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s better this way, he knows.

He’s so ready to let this girl—El, she’s important, he’s gotta remember they call her El—into the cold that he doesn’t even notice what she’s saying until it’s too late.

_ “Never change,” _

The words weigh down on his chest so heavily and suddenly he can’t fucking breathe. The edges of his vision bleed outward slowly.

“ _ He-he told you he hopes you never change.” _

He sees the same beaches he’s walked through a million times, knows by the back of his hand, he sees Adrian.

_ “There weren’t any stars.” _

He looks down, and can’t tell where his hands and Adrian’s hips begin.

_ “He had freckles, so many you couldn’t even count.” _

He traces them over with his fingers, makes the shapes of constellations.

_ “His hair was so dark it looked blue. Cheeks, covered in sand.” _

He grabs handfuls and pulls, marvels at how soft it is, brushes away tears of laughter and stray sand from his face.

“ _He was pretty. He was really pretty.”_

He watches him speak, watches his mouth from the shape of the words and shivers at how his accent roles over the vowels.

_ “And you-you were happy.” _

—

Max is there, he knows that, and he thinks Steve is there behind her too. He can’t really see anything past the burning-can’t-breathe sensation in his chest, but he knows her well enough to understand she’s crying.

_ “I’m sorry.” _

Every breath hurts so bad he feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust, but he needs to tell her.

_ “There's this book. It’s important Max, there’s a book, a-about how when somebody leaps from a burning skyscraper, it's not that they're not afraid of falling anymore; it’s just the alternative is so much worse.” _

_ “Billy, please.” _

_ “And so then it wants you to think, what could be so awful that jumping to your death would seem like an escape?” _

There’s so much blood soaking through his shirt he can feel it pool on the ground beneath him.

_ “I’m not jumping because I want to escape Max, I’m not—“ _

_ “I know, Billy, I know okay, just stay awake, please. It’s gonna be okay just stop talking.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

It so painful that it kinda stops hurting at all, starts feeling more like warmth spreading from his chest out. He remembers salt water, and sand, and cherry hickies that feel like smiles pressed into skin. He remembers words and he remembers kisses, and he thinks about turning back to look at a burning skyscraper as he falls.

_ “I’m sorry.” _

**Author's Note:**

> лютик золотистый - goldilocks  
> детка - baby
> 
> if either of those is incorrect please let me know, i don’t speak russian in the slightest and i know google translate sucks ass most of the time lmao
> 
> the monologue that this fic is based off of comes from the song self-diagnosis by human kitten, i would highly recommend y’all take a listen
> 
> find me on tumblr! [bruhhemianrhapsody](https://bruhhemianrhapsody.tumblr.com)


End file.
